


Getting There's the Tough Part

by petaldancing



Series: ten years too long and too short [3]
Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: Five Years Later, Gen, Post-Canon, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21955345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaldancing/pseuds/petaldancing
Summary: “What about a pair of detectives who dislike each other but make a pretty good team? Don’t readers like those sorts of dynamics?”—Mayaka and Houtarou try to make a manga AKA the triumphant return of Kaburaya Middle School’s Best Couple.
Relationships: Background HoutaEru, Background SatoMaya, Fukube Satoshi & Ibara Mayaka & Oreki Houtarou, Ibara Mayaka & Oreki Houtarou
Series: ten years too long and too short [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/48486
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	Getting There's the Tough Part

**Author's Note:**

> For bananaslugger. Happy Holidays! This short fic makes reference to the ending of Hyouka Volume 6, Chapter 4 (“Our Legendary Volume”). Also, midway through writing this, I thought that it could loosely fit into the same universe as my earlier fic "The Rain Is Trying to Tell Me Something", which is not required reading to understand this. I think I just like picturing Houtarou and Satoshi being college roommates in Tokyo along with Mayaka who's pursuing manga, and Chitanda in Kamiyama.

Mayaka throws the apartment door open, lets her bag fall off her shoulder onto the floor, flings herself onto the dull grey covers of the bed, presses her face into the sheets and groans.

"What's the matter?" Satoshi asks, unperturbed by her barging into his dorm room.

"That's my bed," Houtarou adds unhelpfully. He remains cross legged near the window, flipping a page of his book.

“Kouchi is going solo,” Mayaka mumbles into the mattress.

“Who’s that?” 

“Ayako Kouchi,” Satoshi answers Houtarou, pleased at the chance to assert his title of database. “She’s our senior from Kamiyama High. Used to be in the manga club with Mayaka. They didn’t get along at first but after a particular incident at the manga club, they both quit and have been drawing manga together ever since. A classic case of mortal enemies turned into lifelong comrades.”

Mayaka gets up at this and snaps, “Not lifelong anymore! Our monthly series got cancelled and now she wants to try going off on her own for her next series.”

“Huh,” is all Houtarou says to this. Mayaka does not expect less (or more) from him. Such is the unempathetic slug that is Houtarou Oreki. 

“Did you two have an amicable parting?” Satoshi asks, more out of curiosity than concern. 

Mayaka slumps her shoulders and bites her lip. “I guess so. We never talked about what was going to happen after our first serialisation, so Kouchi didn't betray me or anything. Turns out I was the only one who thought that we should continue being partners.” She tries not to sound affected. It’s not like Kouchi and her had a falling out. If anything, this is the closest they’ve been in all the years they’ve known each other. They even shook hands and wished each other good luck when they left the cafe. No pretenses, no decorative words, no remorse.

Satoshi gets up from his laptop and goes to sit next to Mayaka on the bed, ignoring Houtarou’s low hiss of “I just changed my sheets”. He puts one hand on Mayaka’s shoulder and when she turns to him, he's ready with an encouraging smile. 

“Maybe this is for the best. Think of all the new things you can try now!” 

Sometimes, Mayaka gets just a little bit annoyed with Satoshi Fukube. He always makes it a point to be optimistic when all she wants to do is wallow and indulge in her own self-pity. What annoys her even more is that he never fails to make her look at things from a new perspective. 

“Well, my editor is interested to see a draft for a new series. I was getting tired of doing high school shoujo. I want to try doing something different next—maybe something that could get published in a shounen magazine, but with the sensitivity of a shoujo. Like a detective murder-mystery series…”

“Go for it!” 

Okay, this is no longer optimism. This is foolishness. “My editor wants the first draft by next month! I can’t do it by myself. I’m not good enough yet!” Mayaka insists, her eyebrows scrunching up.

“You won’t know till you try, right? Why don't you ask for a bit more time from the editor?" Satoshi bumps his shoulder to hers.

Mayaka interlocks her hands on her lap, running her thumb over the blisters she’s developed from drawing manga full-time. "It's not that easy. There's still space in the upcoming issue to publish a new one shot, but if I miss the deadline, who knows when the next opening will be."

Before Satoshi can get in another word, Mayaka shushes him with one finger. “I’d need time to do more research. I’m not as well read as Fuku-chan on mystery fiction. I don’t want to be called a knock-off _Conan_.” 

Satoshi cocks his head so that her finger isn't blocking him. “Then you should ask Houtarou to help you!”

The guy in question is no longer sitting underneath the window. He’s given up reading and is lying on his side on the tatami floor, looking like he might doze off at any moment. Houtarou Oreki’s defense tactic when he’s stuck with her and Satoshi these days is to pretend to fall asleep so he won’t get dragged into unwanted conversation. 

“Fuku-chan, are you listening to yourself?” Mayaka leaps up and pinches Satoshi’s cheeks with both her hands.

Satoshi’s chuckles are muffled but genuine. “His college timetable is so empty, he’s been reading not only his usual books but all the shoujo magazines you’ve left lying around. It’s a deadly combination of modern _Sherlock Holmes_ and old school _Sailor Moon_.”

“What? No!” 

Satoshi pulls her hands off his face and cradles them in his. “Why not? You want to try a new idea and you’re short on time. The best way is to pick someone else’s brain, and even you have to admit that Houtarou’s a little bit clever. He could help you come up with cool narrative tricks for a detective series.” 

Mayaka opens her mouth but no words come to her.

“Well, this is all just wishful thinking until Houtarou agrees to lend you his brain. Why don’t you ask him first?” Satoshi laughs.

“I’m willing to bet that he’d rather run a marathon than work with me on anything!”

As if to torment her, Houtarou cracks an eye open and says, “I guess I could try.” 

Mayaka’s mouth gapes even wider. 

“Dun dun dun! Kaburaya Middle School’s Best Couple is back together!” 

* * *

  
Mayaka always assumed that the last time she would ever have to work with Houtarou on a project would be the final issue of _Hyouka_ in their third year. At eighteen-years old, this realisation did not make her sentimental or nostalgic—these were not feelings you could feel for a certain Houtarou Oreki.

Now, she is twenty-one years old and partnering up with Houtarou feels more weird than anything else. And to think it’s because the guy she’s dating has twisted and fearsome matchmaking skills.

She lets her head bang softly against the coffee table, almost reconsidering the choices she’s made in her romantic life.

“We just bought that from Muji,” Houtarou says unhelpfully from his study desk. 

Yep, nothing sentimental about this. 

As Mayaka rubs her forehead, she notices that Houtarou is writing something. 

“Are you working on your ideas?” 

“No.” Houtarou hunches over and tries to cover up his work with his elbow.

Mayaka stands up. This dorm room isn’t that large. Satoshi and Houtarou have their own desks and beds, separated by the pristine Muji table. She is hovering over Houtarou’s shoulder within three steps. 

“You’re writing a postcard to Eru-chan!” 

Houtarou looks over his shoulder with an unamused expression. 

“Right. I won’t peek,” Mayaka says even though she’s already read the first two lines of the letter. He’s telling her about Satoshi’s antics. “Tell her I said hi?”

“I’m sure it’d be faster if you text her.” Houtarou caps his pen and slides the half-written postcard into his drawer.

It’s true. Mayaka exchanges messages with Eru often. They update each other on college life and share funny posts or cooking videos they find online. Sometimes, it feels like Eru’s in Tokyo with them, not in Nagoya studying agriculture.

In fact, doesn’t sending letters by post just increase the distance? Then again, Eru’s always enjoyed writing and receiving letters (Mayaka gets handmade cards on New Year’s, Golden Week and her birthday without fail every year), and Houtarou probably finds it less stressful to pen a postcard over a few weeks than say, send emojis instantaneously over LINE. Does this mean they’re finally dating? 

The fact that Mayaka isn’t 100% certain makes her realise she doesn’t really know what Houtarou’s been up to lately. She notices that there’s a stack of papers on the other side of his desk, probably schoolwork. 

“What are you doing with your life, anyway? Aren’t you studying business right now?” 

Houtarou doesn’t bat an eyelid. “I’m living out my uneventful life as a college student.”

“Yeah, just like the sky is blue.” Mayaka gestures upwards to demonstrate. “But why business? Why not something less energy-consuming like…” She trails off, struggling to think of a discipline that would require less effort. 

“Exactly.”

“Huh?” 

“There is nothing that’s easy to study, especially if it involves earning a degree. If I’m going to have to expend energy, it should at least be something useful, for a job I can do indoors, preferably at a desk and in air-conditioning,” Houtarou says, spinning his pen in one hand.

That explanation sounds very much like Oreki-logic. Still, a part of Mayaka feels like there’s more to it. She just can’t place her finger on it. 

“So, why did you agree to help me? Aren’t I just getting in the way of your uneventful college life?” 

“How considerate of you,” Houtarou remarks, only to drop his pen when Mayaka shoots a piercing glare at him. As he bends over to pick it up, desk chair squeaking, he says, “I thought I just needed to throw some ideas out. I didn’t know I had to actually write something.” 

“We need to write out some ideas to start off. From there, I’ll draw a rough sketch of the chapter, you give feedback, and I redraw—as many times as it takes.” This is the process they’ve agreed on.

“As... many times as it takes?” Houtarou repeats with a shiver.  
  
“Are you backing out now?” Mayaka asks. When she looks at him again, at the postcard in his drawer and the stack of readings on his desk, she lowers the volume of her voice, “You know… you can, if you want.” 

Eighteen-year old Houtarou Oreki would have happily thrown in the towel. But twenty-one-year old Houtarou Oreki just sighs and says, “I’ll give it one try.” 

* * *

  
  
Mayaka closes her eyes and listens to the unrelenting sound of raindrops tapping against the window. The last train is leaving the station in an hour and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to make it if she waits for the rain to subside. The entire afternoon had been spent drafting concepts with Houtarou in his dorm room, but none feel right. There are stray, leftover ideas that she doesn’t hate—maybe if she can figure out how to piece it all together, it’ll work. 

She’s anxious. Not just because the draft hasn’t been written, but because Houtarou hadn’t said a word about quitting early. He must have noticed it getting late, but still he let her continue sketching and erasing as the hours wore on. 

Satoshi settles down next to her with two cups of instant noodles. “Since when have you two been the kind to miss dinner?” 

Houtarou wordlessly splits his wooden chopsticks and reaches out for the mildly spicy flavour.

Mayaka waves her hand over the second cup (mega spicy!), batting the steam away. “We just got carried away. There were so many directions to take the story and when I checked the time, it was already past nine. This isn’t out of the ordinary. Kouchi and I used to spend a fews days coming up with drafts for chapters too.” 

Houtarou’s eyes widen in alarm at this comment. He looks doubly ridiculous with noodles hanging out of his mouth. 

“Calm down. I think I have something. I’ll just need to sketch out the draft.” This isn’t a lie, but it isn’t the entire truth. Mayaka will have to figure it out later.

“Woah, that’s fast!” Satoshi raises an eyebrow. “Is there anything else that needs to be done?”

Satoshi really believes in her. Mayaka chews on her piping hot noodles while coming up with a suitable answer. “Since I’m no longer working with Kouchi, I’ll need to think of a new pen name.” 

Satoshi immediately jumps in with a suggestion, like he’s thought about it beforehand: “What about a combination of your names? Like Houtarou Ibara or something.”

“Hey, that makes it sound like I got married to Ibara.” 

Of course, the one time Houtarou chooses to be vocal, it’s for something like this.

Yet, Mayaka finds herself agreeing with him. “Fuku-chan, ew.” 

“True, and it’s more likely that he’ll end up taking Chitanda’s family name, huh?” Satoshi remarks brazenly, cupping his chin with one hand. 

Houtarou loses his chopsticks’ grip on the noodles. They slosh back in the cup and a splash of broth lands on his face. This guy’s too easy to read. Mayaka can tell that he’s uncomfortable with Satoshi’s chosen topic. She slurps her noodles and lets the delicious heat gather on her tongue as she considers her choices. 

“Thanks for dinner Fuku-chan. I think I need to leave now or I’ll miss the ride back to my campus.” She chooses to be kind, in exchange for Houtarou’s endurance today. 

Satoshi’s attention snaps to her. She’d expected it, but it still makes her heart skip. He gazes out the window and right on cue, there’s a lightning strike followed by a thunder clap. 

“In that weather? Why don’t you stay the night, Mayaka?” 

This would surely be a whole lot more romantic without Houtarou sitting in the corner, wiping his face with a tissue.

Before she can hesitate, Satoshi adds, “You can sleep here.” He throws a thumb over his shoulder, at his bed with its gaudy polka dotted sheets. 

“What about you?” Mayaka asks, hoping that her cheeks haven’t turned as red as she feels.

“He can sleep on my bed,” Houtarou offers. 

“Oh my~! How forward, Houtarou-kun!” Satoshi can’t resist, it seems.

“On second thought, just sleep on the floor.”

“Eh?? Mayaka, help me out here!” 

“You brought on yourself, Fuku-chan.” Mayaka shrugs before sniffling a laugh in her hand. 

That’s the second time she’s agreed with Houtarou tonight. This doesn’t mean anything, she tells herself. And as for all the story ideas they tossed around in the afternoon? All that frantic scribbling and loud exclamations and kicking legs under the table and one short afternoon nap? 

Nothing came out that, so that doesn’t count either. Okay? 

* * *

Mayaka crushes the sketch in front of her and tosses it into the wastebasket on the other side of the room. No, this isn’t it. The characters aren’t compelling enough. A Sherlock is only as interesting as their Watson.

“What about a pair of detectives who dislike each other but make a pretty good team? Don’t readers like those sorts of dynamics?” Mayaka knows she is desperate, but isn’t all great art born out of desperation? Fuku-chan would know the correct saying if he were here.

“Are you basing this off Kouchi and yourself?” Houtarou points out. “That’s a bit uninspired.”

Mayaka purses her lips and bites back, “Well, why don’t we make the protagonist someone who can’t admit to his feelings and ends up solving mysteries to impress the person he likes instead.” 

Houtarou doesn’t retaliate like a normal person would in this situation. Instead, he lies down on his bed, lets his body sink into the covers and asks, “Is that what you think of me?”

Mayaka won’t go easy on him just because he’s being meek. “It’s not what I think, it’s what actually happened for the entirety of high school. I swear Oreki, if Fuku-chan and I weren’t around to help, you two would’ve never gotten anywhere.”

“You have my deepest gratitude.” 

Mayaka rolls her eyes as she returns to the blank sketchbook page underneath her hands. The pencil is already in her hand and she urges it to move, to animate the empty white with dark lead, with eyes and hair and clothing and personality—with the next character she’ll come to treasure and pour her heart into. 

But her hand stays unmoving. Without anything else to do, Mayaka attacks.

“We’re not kids anymore, Oreki. We can’t just keep doing what we want and hope that it’ll all work out.” And when he doesn’t bother with a reply, she huffs and continues, “If you’re really serious about Eru-chan, you should be doing more than just writing postcards now. You should be giving her more attention and you… you shouldn’t be wasting time with me doing this… Be serious.”

She doesn’t expect Houtarou to take all of this as seriously as she does, but this isn’t as simple as a graded school project. This is her career. It’s already been two weeks and she can’t confidently say she has anything like a first draft ready. Can she really do this on her own without Kouchi? Mayaka feels a tightness in her throat and she presses her pencil even harder onto the page, struggling not to let her emotions show. 

“Drawing manga is tough, more tough than I could ever imagine. You know, I was kind of looking forward to having a break since my series got cancelled? But you and Fuku-chan didn’t give me a chance, and I stupidly went ahead with it like I always do!”

Houtarou gives her a moment to catch her breath before he asks, “Do you want to take a break?”

The laugh that escapes Mayaka can only be described as exasperated. “If I give this up, I don’t know when I’ll get my next big break. I need to make my editor fall for this new draft completely. I need to. I don’t know what I’ll do if it fails. It may mean months of part-time jobs and applying to competitions and endless rejections. And after we’d worked so hard for our first win and our first proper manga.”

Houtarou props himself onto his elbows and looks at her through his messy bangs. “Is that a no?” 

Mayaka doesn’t answer. When she lifts her pencil, the only thing she can see on the paper is a hard, lifeless dot.

* * *

[Eru-chan (≧▽≦)/]

[Good evening, Mayaka-chan. How is your new story coming along? I can’t wait to read it.]

[Nothing much to report sadly...]

[I’m cheering you on!]

[Thanks Eru-chan (つ . •́ _ʖ •̀ .)つ BTW I wanted to ask you something]

[Yes?]

Mayaka’s fingers freeze. She doesn’t quite know how to phrase the next bit, so she takes a deep breath and types the words as they come to her. 

[Isn’t Houtarou acting all weird now?

First he decides to study business and now he’s helping me with my manga.

And whenever we talk about you, he tries to avoid it.

Is he taking things seriously?

Or has he been abducted and replaced by an alien since we graduated??]

Mayaka finally exhales. She waits. When she doesn’t see Eru typing a reply, she starts to panic. 

[I asked something weird, didn’t I? You can ignore it, please ignore it! (シ_ _)シ]

It’d been easier to criticise Houtarou’s way of life when they’d been younger. Now, Mayaka just sounds like she’s needlessly belittling him. It doesn’t make her feel better like she’d hoped. And now, Eru’s probably upset at her for heckling her boyfriend.

Suddenly, her phone rings. It jumps out of Mayaka’s hand and off the edge of her bed, landing with a dull thud on the wooly rug she’s laid out underneath. She curses under her breath and quickly picks up the call.

“Eru-chan?” 

“Mayaka-chan, good evening! I thought it would be better to talk over the phone. And I missed hearing your voice.” Yet, it is the gentle lilt of Eru’s, betraying no anger, that brings warmth to Mayaka. She curls up on her bed and pulls a pillow onto her lap. 

“It’s nice to hear yours too. It’s just been stressful lately and I don’t know how to make sense of things. I’m sorry if I asked an insensitive question.”

“Why would it be insensitive?” Eru asks, sounding surprised.

“I mean, I’d feel bad if someone questioned my relationship with Fuku-chan, like whether we were being serious or not,” Mayaka hurries to say. 

“Ah, but Houtarou-san and I… we’re not like you and Satoshi-san.” On the other end of the line, Eru’s voice quivers with shyness. 

Mayaka throws the pillow off herself and it slams against the wall of her dorm room. “Huh?! Aren’t you two dating?” 

“D-dating?” Eru’s startled reaction is proof that Mayaka had gotten it all wrong. 

“I’m really, really sorry Eru-chan! I was unloading all that onto you thinking that Houtarou was being a shitty boyfriend and getting distracted and… well, forget it. Forget what I said!” Mayaka flaps her hand in the air even though her friend can’t see. 

Eru eases the misunderstanding with a soft ‘It’s alright’ and a good-natured laugh, which helps Mayaka calm down. But just when she thinks it’s blown over, Eru clears her throat and says, “Mayaka-chan, you usually wouldn’t get so worked up about Houtarou-san. I’m worried. Could there be something else about Houtarou-san that’s irritating you?”

Only Eru Chitanda could be so perceptive, even when she’s halfway across the country.

Mayaka runs a hand through her hair as she tries to form words for the uneasiness in the pit of her stomach. “It’s just—how he’s acting! He’s never shown any interest in helping me before and now...”

“Is this a bad thing?” Eru’s question is clean and precise.

Mayaka has no choice but to roll into a ball and collapse on her side. “It makes me frustrated,” she whispers into the phone—into Eru’s ear and into admission. 

With her cheek pressed into her bedsheets, she gazes across the room to her manga collection. It had taken Satoshi and her about two hours to assemble the IKEA bookshelf when she first got it, and over one week for Mayaka to decide which manga she’d take with her from home to Tokyo. She’s been reading manga since young and she isn’t new to this field anymore, why does it feel like she’s no different from how she was in high school? She feels like she’s reverted back to being a clueless rookie. Shouldn’t she have more to show from her experiences? It makes her question if what’s happened the last few years has all been a fluke.

Mayaka sniffs as she says, “Everything feels all topsy-turvy now. Oreki’s the one who’s trying, and I’m the one who wants to give up! I can’t understand him and I can’t understand myself.” 

“I see.” Eru hums with understanding. “It seems you need to try to understand each other.” 

“How do I do that?” Mayaka flops onto her back.

For once, Eru replies immediately. 

“The way you always do, Mayaka-chan. The way that I’ve always admired.”

* * *

She finds the perfect place for dinner. It’s only a ten minute walk from Houtarou and Satoshi’s dormitory, and it’s located along a quiet stretch of road. When Mayaka and Houtarou enter past the wooden doors, there are only five other customers eating ramen. They find a table for two in one corner of the cramped space. After placing their food orders, Mayaka calls for a pint of beer, while Houtarou settles for a cup of tea.

“Isn’t this nice?” she asks after taking her first sip. “I figured someone like you wouldn't appreciate the usual popular hangout spots. This only came up on the map after I did an extensive search.”

“Mm.” Houtarou acknowledges. His eyes dart to the side, lingering on a traditional wall scroll as he says. “Not to sound like I’m ungrateful, but why are you treating me to dinner?” 

“To thank you for helping me out.”

Houtarou, still avoiding her eyes, lowers his gaze to the cup in front of him. “But you shot down all of my ideas.” 

Mayaka folds both her hands on the table and sighs. “Okay, I called you out here because I also wanted to ask you some questions.” 

From the resulting look on Houtarou’s face, he’s just as uncertain as her. This is probably the first time they’ve eaten out without Satoshi or Eru around to buffer the conversation. 

But this is something that only involves the two of them. Mayaka shuts her eyes and collects herself before beginning. “To put it across simply: I love manga. I’ve always loved manga, and I always will.”

Houtarou nods silently, indicating for her to continue. 

“I was wavering so much the last few weeks that I forgot about that. All I was concerned about was coming up with the perfect series, impressing my editor and thinking about how to pander to the readers. My grand ideas became hollow whenever I forced them onto paper. It’s no wonder nothing worked out.” She stops to take a swig of beer, wiping her mouth with the back of her mouth after.

“—And the worst thing was you, Houtarou Oreki.” 

Houtarou’s gaze finally meets hers from across the table.

“It was wrong of me to ask if you were taking it seriously, when you’ve been trying to help. It’s just that seeing you actually putting in effort threw me off. You aren’t the same old Houtarou Oreki I know anymore. Why do I feel like I’m the only one who hasn’t grown up? It’s… frustrating. I always just rush headlong into things to prove that I’m capable.” Mayaka buries her face into the palms of her hands. 

“If I could be just a tiny, tiny, _tiny_ bit like you.” She makes sure to emphasise her words carefully, “It would’ve helped. Maybe it’s good to give up and take a break once in while.” 

“That’s funny,” Houtarou responds.

“ _Hah??_ ” Mayaka stands on her feet and raises one fist. Even though her full standing height matches Houtarou’s seated, she doesn’t lose any fighting spirit. 

“No, it’s not what you think.” Houtarou holds one hand up as a signal of peace. “It’s because... I was thinking about learning a bit from you too.”

“To draw your own manga?” Mayaka arches an eyebrow as she sits back down. 

Houtarou shakes his head. “Even though you’re callous about it, your assessments usually never miss their mark. I’m still figuring it out, my future and what I’m studying for and what I feel for Chitanda and… I don’t know if I’m ready for any of it. But I want to slowly become someone that can be relied on.”

Mayaka tries to ward off these warm and icky feelings with a sharp, “Okay, but what does it have to do with me?” 

“Ibara, you’re the most reliable person I know.” Houtarou’s face, she realises, is tinged with red. Did he get sake to drink instead?

At that moment, they’re interrupted by two bowls of ramen served on the table. 

Mayaka stares at the broth, following the steam as it rises. She resolves herself just then and there, reaching over the table to clasp a hand onto Oreki’s shoulder. “Oreki, thanks for all your help. I think I know what I need to do.”

“You’ve got an idea for the draft?” 

Mayaka lets go of him and leans back onto her chair. “No, and I don’t think I’ll get an idea that’ll be good enough by the time the deadline hits. I’ll just need to start from square one again and climb my way back to being a proper manga artist. It’s not like you’ve figured anything out either just because you had this talk with me, have you?”

The corner of Houtarou’s mouth lifts up, in the smallest hint of a smile. 

Mayaka returns this with a grin and says, “We already know what we want to become. Getting there’s the tough part.”

He raises his cup of tea and she grabs her beer in reflex. 

“Cheers.” 

“Cheers!” 


End file.
